


Rude

by babydragon7



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24062503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydragon7/pseuds/babydragon7
Summary: "Your flirting. It is atrocious. Are all Russians this hopeless at flirting?"
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 125





	Rude

**Author's Note:**

> Characters are not mine. I just borrowed them to play.
> 
> Rating is for swearing.
> 
> I just keep writing them instead of doing anything resembling work (insert a sad smiley face).

“You are just rude plain and simple”, Napoleon complains. “No warm words from you, Peril: ‘Tell me, dear Napoleon, how the day went? Would you care for a drink? You did great on this last mission. Thank you for saving me from a certain death.’ Polite, small talk. Don’t you know you’ll catch more flies with honey?”

Ilya just looks at him from the couch.

“You catch more flies with sh..something else.”

“Hopeless, you are absolutely hopeless. Ok, let us skip being polite. Your flirting. It is atrocious. Are all Russians this hopeless at flirting? Just watched you the other day glaring at Gaby from across the floor. No wonder you have not kissed her yet.”

“Not because of that.” Ilya sounds amused. “Gaby told me I was overbearing and controlling. For a partner spy it is a good thing. For a potential boyfriend not so much. And I wasn’t glaring; I was merely listening to her conversation with the mark via my ring.”

“Can’t blame her”, Napoleon muses. “At least she kept the tracker, just like I did. The ones in my shoes? I think they come in handy.”

“Those? Oh right, those too.”

“What? Well, fuck me.”

“It could be arranged.” Ilya comments drily and Napoleon know he has to be joking, but his heart still skips a bit.

Ilya looks at him and says “Want me to show you how Russians flirt? Come here.”

Napoleon approaches him warily.

“Sit with me on the couch.”

Napoleon sits near Ilya with their shoulders almost touching.

“Ok. You have to pretend we are on a date and went to the movies.”

Napoleon shrugs. “Easy. Done.”

“Now. Pretend you’re watching a film.”

Napoleon does that. It is weird and exiting. After sitting together in silence for nearly five minutes Napoleon is bored. When suddenly he feels an arm slowly creeping and resting on his shoulders and Ilya tucking him a little to his side. That is not bad actually, the feeling. It feels secure. Surely, that is not all. There must be more… necking, kissing, something.

Ilya remains motionless by his side and only after Napoleon turns his head Ilya looks at him and smiles warmly.

“So now what?” Napoleon asks and if he is breathless, well.

“Now I take you home. We go out couple more times. I propose. We wait until our marriage to have sex. And we have to be very quiet on our wedding night.”

Napoleon’s mind is in a bit of a blur after the word ‘sex’, but this catches his attention.

“Well, unless we are lucky our first home will probably be a room in a communal flat and the walls there are not very thick usually.”

“Fuck this,” Napoleon says. “I don’t want to live with neighbors.”

“The bathroom is also communal by the way.”

“No, Peril, no way. This is a nightmare. Reminds me of the army. No, I want something lovely, romantic, say I cook you a nice dinner, we have some wine…”

Ilya smiles mockingly. “If we can buy the wine, sure. Most Soviet people usually drink champagne once a year for a New Year’s celebration, but maybe I can get some vodka.”

Napoleon signs, “I get it. I am a spoiled American brat who has it far too easy in life. I deserve to be spanked for being spoiled.”

“That could be _easily_ arranged.” Ilya’s eyes darken and Napoleon swallows.

This is blatant and rude and nothing like carefree banter Napoleon himself uses. However, Napoleon has to admit – it’s very effective. Well, he can be direct too.

He raises from the couch and gives Ilya his hand.

“Wanna play a bit more in the bedroom? We don’t have to be quiet there.”

“Да”, Ilya says and lets Napoleon pull him in the right direction.


End file.
